


mangled, tangled up, mixed up love

by loonyloopyluna



Category: Miraculous Ladybug
Genre: (sort of), Akuma OCs, Anxiety Disorder, Dissociation, Eating Disorders, F/M, Friends to Lovers, eventual identity reveal, the love square is a Mess™
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-08-02
Updated: 2016-09-22
Packaged: 2018-07-28 12:00:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,950
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7639396
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/loonyloopyluna/pseuds/loonyloopyluna
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Being a teenager can be hard. Hiding a secret identity can be messy. Having a crush can be painful.</p><p>Square that, and you've got a pair of kids that can't see the forest for the trees.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

One of the hardest things for Marinette to get used to about being Ladybug was the _feelings_ from with putting on the suit. There was the confidence that came with being a superhero with the trust of so many people on your shoulders, as well as the soul-crushing anxiety that followed. She still felt a little ridiculous clad in scarlet spandex, rather than something more tasteful and subtle, like her partner got. And there was something else, something... distant, that she couldn't find put her finger on until her second month on the job.

When the circus was in town.

It had been advertised for months, in subway stations and on commercial breaks in between the local news. It was a small company, coming to town "FOR ONE NIGHT ONLY!" The posters, while small, were printed on garishly bright paper, and the commercials played with annoying frequency. But despite their attempts at attracting attention, it appeared that their efforts had been in vain. The audience had been little more than a trickle.

Marinette had been crossing the street from school to her house when she noticed a commotion down the block. A large man in a black sequined suit was riding a unicycle and juggling spheres of magical fire. He had cornered a group of people and seemed to be trying to herd them somewhere.

She ducked into the entryway of her home to quickly transform, and came back in a flash--but they were gone. Ladybug swung onto a nearby rooftop for a better vantage point, and she could see cars on fire and people running in haphazard circles on the sidewalks, but nothing hinting towards the angry akuma victim.

Then, from behind her, she heard an eerie tune, like an accordion had died, and its ghost was playing "The Entertainer." She whirled around and saw a giant, purple-and-red circus tent in the park, seemingly conjured out of nowhere. A pair of spotlights flanked the entrance; one was pointed backwards, at the tent's entrance, and the other was pointed directly at Ladybug.

The flaps of the tent shifted, and the man rode out, his hands empty except for a red rubber bouncy ball. He tossed this between his hands as he spoke. "Ladybug! I am the Juggler, and you're missing the show! Won't you come join us?"

Ladybug wrapped her yo-yo around a nearby streetlight and landed on the grass in front of him. The Juggler quickly wheeled away, however, back through the tent's entrance, and beckoned for her to follow. With an uneasy feeling in her stomach, she glanced around quickly (where _was_ Chat Noir?) and followed.

The inside of the tent was unnaturally dim; the only source of illumination came from strings of paper lanterns strung between the rafters, glowing sickly green. It was decorated like one would expect a big-top circus tent to be--wooden risers ringed the edges, leaving a wide, circular space open in the middle. Halfway to the roof and spanning the length of the tent, a tightrope stretched across, the net underneath mysteriously absent.

The Juggler's victims were all here, of course. Some were seated on the risers, bound by ropes. Others were being forced to provide the entertainment; Ladybug saw Mylene struggling to balance a ball atop her head as she danced, her mother clinging onto a white-eyed horse that was galloping around the ring, Nino attempting to juggle a set of rubber balls as the Juggler threw one more into the mix.

With a yelp, Sabine fell off the horse, thudding painfully onto the ground. The Juggler clucked his tongue and straightened his bow tie, pulling another ball out of some hidden pocket. "Oh dear, that won't do," he said, throwing the ball. With a flash of light, Sabine was gone, the ball rolling innocently away in her place.

Ladybug's eyes widened as he rode after it, then took another two balls out and did the same to Nino and Mylene. He juggled the three balls as he spoke to her. "Now, Ladybug, I could do this all day. Or, you could give me those lovely earrings of yours, and I might crack these eggs open and let them go free."

She gulped, her eyes flicking over to the audience. As Ladybug, she had a duty to protect all of Paris, and if that wasn't motivation enough, people she knew were in danger. As selfish as that sounded, it helped impress on her just how important, just how _dangerous_ the situation was. It was easy to get caught up in the flashing lights and bright colors and forget that she was dealing with a supervillain, behind it all.

Before she could relent, however, a heavy hand landed on her shoulder. "Can it wait?" Chat Noir asked. "I've been waiting all week to see the circus!"

The Juggler faltered for a minute and stammered out, "I suppose?"

Ladybug marched over to the stands and sat down primly. "You did invite me to see the show, and I've hardly seen anything yet!" 

As the Juggler busied himself with setting up a new act, Chat settled beside her, throwing an arm over her shoulder. She narrowed her eyes at him, and he grinned apologetically but kept it there. She shifted her gaze to his hand to push it off, but saw that it wasn't resting on her shoulder; he was trying to surreptitiously use his claws to saw through the ropes restraining the boy next to them.

With great fanfare, the Juggler whirled back around and raised his arms. "And we're off!" he shouted. Several acts began at once, and Ladybug and Chat Noir pretended to pay quiet attention, clapping politely and smiling when the Juggler turned their way, but fighting to free the audience as soon as his back was turned.

To his credit, the Juggler wasn't necessarily a bad ringmaster, although he was ruthless. The second a performer slipped up, whether it was by putting a toe over an imaginary line or making a turn too soon, he would trap them in one of his balls. After every time he did so, he would turn and apologize to the heroes for ruining the show, but they were quick to assure him that they'd hardly even noticed.

Finally, they'd freed the last audience member, and they all sat, tensed and ready to run for it. Chat lifted up a section of the tent, wincing at the daylight that seeped through, and waved them through, one by one, while Ladybug kept watch to make sure the Juggler was distracted.

With an almost inhuman screech, the Juggler threw a ball at the final performer and whirled around to face the heroes, only to find them standing alone, just a few feet away. He tossed the balls around and around, effortlessly, as he rode towards them. They shot in different directions and looped around, meeting again in the middle of the ring, but the Juggler simply smiled and turned the unicycle on a dime.

"Give me your miraculouses," he said. "And in exchange, you can have these." He nodded towards the balls that he tossed up and down, one after the other, seemingly without thought.

Chat snorted. "Nice try. You're new to Paris, so I can see how you wouldn't know, but these fights always tend to end the same way. The bad guy--that's you--gets defeated, and the good guys--that's us--get to walk away. With our miraculouses."

He nodded towards Ladybug, who took her cue and summoned her Lucky Charm. A red-and-black spotted crowbar dropped into her hands, and she appraised it curiously.

The Juggler shook his head at them. "Yes, but there's a little voice in my ear telling me that persistence is key," he said, "and if there's one thing I've learned in my years of work, it's that practice makes perfect." With that, he lunged at them.

With baton and yo-yo, Chat Noir and Ladybug shot up onto the tightrope, crouching down for balance. The crowbar lay abandoned, but not forgotten, on the ground below.

The Juggler sighed. "That's hardly fair, is it?" he asked. He threw a ball at each of them, but they managed to swing around, dangling from the rope like sloths, and the balls bounced harmlessly off the fabric of the tent.

"Any ideas?" Chat hissed back towards his partner. "I think the akuma's in his--"

"Bow tie," Ladybug finished. "Yeah. Give me a minute." She glanced around, her eyes darting from the Juggler to the crowbar to the lanterns--ah!

"When I give the word," she whispered, "I need you to use your Cataclysm on his unicycle."

He nodded, and they both dropped to the ground, landing gracefully on their toes. The Juggler gave them a slight bow. "That's more like it. Now, your miraculouses, please, or I'm afraid I'll have to get a little more"--here, he ceased juggling, finally, clutching one single ball that now glowed white-hot--"serious."

Ladybug ignored him, instead darting over to where she'd left the crowbar and snatching it up. She jumped back up onto the tightrope, then over to one of the rafters, crouching in front of one of the lantern strings and holding the crowbar above it. Meanwhile, Chat was on the ground, taunting the Juggler, one hand glowing black. He led them over to the center of the ring, and Ladybug jumped down, using the string like a zipline. The lanterns popped off, one by one, as she flew downwards.

When she was a few feet away, she shouted, "Now!" Chat Noir lunged and pressed his fist against the wheel of the unicycle; at the same time, Ladybug zipped past, her hand shooting out to grab the Juggler's bowtie. She landed neatly a second later, as he collapsed gracelessly on the floor.

A split second later, before she could even release the akuma, two things happened.

1) The crowbar slid along another few inches of the string, before sliding off to the side, and in the process, displaced one last lantern.

2) The lantern in question, which was directly over where Ladybug now stood, fell onto her head, setting her hair on fire.

With a yelp, she dropped the bow tie and patted at her head in an attempt to stifle the flames. The Juggler shot towards the fallen tie, but Chat was quicker, extending his baton to leap over him. 

Ladybug's hair was still aflame, and everyone could smell the smoke.  But she didn't feel a thing.. After a few seconds, she paused in her efforts. "Did I get it all?" She couldn't tell; her head hadn't even warmed up in the slightest.

Chat leaned forward and extinguished the tip of her smoldering pigtail between two fingers. "You're good," he said, before ripping the bow tie neatly in two.

Ladybug cleansed the akuma, reset the town with her Miraculous powers, and apologized to the poor circus performer for missing his show. Chat Noir tried to stall her before she left, to make sure that the fire hadn't done any damge to her, but she reassured him that she was fine--Miraculous Ladybug fixed injuries, remember?

He grinned, and bowed, and soared off. Ladybug hadn't quite convinced herself, though. How could she know if it had been fixed, if she hadn't felt the damage in the first place?

She definitely needed to talk to Tikki about what had happened this afternoon.

* * *

Later that night, as Marinette was brushing out her hair before bed, she asked, “So, um, Tikki? You know what goes on when I’m transformed, right?”

Tikki flew up from where she’d been sitting on Marinette’s desk and perched on her shoulder, looking at her chosen’s eyes in the mirror. “I do. You want to know why you’re okay after today, right?”

Marinette set down her brush and fiddled with the ends of her hair. It felt...normal.

"Did I imagine it?" she asked. "Was it Hawkmoth?"

Tikki sighed sympathetically. "Marinette, have you never noticed that when you're Ladybug, you don't get hurt?"

"Of course," she said. Her magic would have fixed it, anyway.

"Well, that's not  _ exactly _ true." Tikki laid a tiny paw on Marinette's cheek. "When you're in the suit, you're invulnerable. You might get hurt, but... you don't feel it. If you land on a roof too hard, you might twist your ankle without knowing it. And when you fix everything, you'd never even know you were injured."

"Wait," Marinette said, twisting her head to look her kwami directly in the eyes. "Is that why... When I'm Ladybug, I don't even really  _ feel _ like I'm her."

"But Marinette!" Tikki insisted. "You  _ are _ Ladybug!"

"But it's hard for me to believe it sometimes, even," Marinette said. "There's all this stuff that she does that I can't!"

"That's because you don't have a magic yo-yo when I'm around," Tikki said. "You and Ladybug are the same."

"I know that!" Marinette shouted. Tikki darted backwards a little, wilting. "No, I'm sorry, Tikki," Marinette said. "It's just--I see videos of her and my brain says 'that's me!' But it almost feels like I have to convince myself. And when I'm in the suit, everything feels--muffled, sort of? Except I can still see and hear everything fine. Is--is that your doing, too? A way to protect me, maybe, so I don't try to go around acting like Ladybug when I can feel pain?"

"I--I don't think so, Marinette," Tikki apologized. "I'm sure it's just taking time to get used to being a superhero. Paris believes in Ladybug, and I believe in you, Marinette. And I hope that soon you'll be able to believe in yourself."

* * *

Adrien was sick and tired of being sick and tired. He was a superhero; he was a model; he was supposed to be in top condition!

He discovered a few weeks in that being Chat Noir was the best thing that had ever happened to him. Feeling cooped up in an empty house? Go for a rooftop stroll! Eat too much at Nino's house? Good thing there's an akuma attack a few blocks away, where he can work all that off! Need some alone time? Well, he got enough of that as Adrien, although it was nice to be able to silence Plagg's chattering and watch the sunset from the Eiffel Tower.

And when he was Chat Noir, everything was a rush. He felt  _ great _ . Confidence came with the suit, he supposed, and he wasn't sure if that was Plagg's doing or his own as he played the part of the perfectly cliche superhero. He had the most amazing stamina; he could run for hours without losing his breath. He could destroy anything he touched, if he wanted--although, there were some serious fears that came with  _ that _ ability.

Chat Noir literally felt like a dream. He could leap buildings in a single bound, he could climb walls--he could practically fly! It couldn't be real life, could it?

If he didn't obsessively stalk the Ladyblog in his civilian form, he wouldn't believe it.

In the suit, everything felt so light. He could barely feel the pavement beneath his boots, his partner's gloved hand in his own. It was exhilarating, but it was muted. He kept waiting for the day he woke up.

And that day came, eventually: the first day of summer, almost a year after he'd first gotten the ring. The villain of the day called herself Stormy Weather, and she provided it, all right. The hail bit at his cheeks, exposed beneath his mask, and he found himself shivering, despite not actually feeling cold. His suit was magically always comfortable, which was nice when the weather was behaving--a normal black leather suit would not agree with summer--but it still unnerved him that he could comfortably stand in the middle of a blizzard.

After the battle with the Ice Queen was over, and the partners had shared in their obligatory fist-bump, Chat turned and said, "Ladybug, I need you to punch me."

"What?!"

"Punch me. Er--not on the face, or anything." He remembered he was currently in the middle of a photoshoot, and an unexplainable black eye would not be welcome. Chat scanned his body for a moment and tapped the side of his ribs. "Here."

"Why?"

"Just--please?" He implored at her with the softest, most pitiful eyes he could muster.

"Oh, God, you too?" she muttered. "Fine."

Ladybug hauled back and rammed her fist into his side. He doubled over, coughing, and she covered her mouth with both hands. "Sorry! I'm sorry!"

He waved his hand. "No, it's fine. Just... knocked the wind out of me." He prodded his ribs. Not a bit sore. "Huh. Didn't take you for a lightweight. Again?"

She put her hands on her hips. "Chat Noir, I'm not going to stand on this roof and use you as a punching bag all afternoon. I've got things to do"--her earrings beeped--" and I'm running out of time. You are, too," she said, nodding towards his ring.

"Of course," he complied, smiling. He hurried over to the door and opened it with a flourish. "After you, my Lady."

Chat waited a solid minute before following down the stairs. He returned to the park nearly the same time as his five minutes were up. Plagg spiraled out of his ring, melodramatically collapsing facedown on one of the trunks he'd hidden in earlier.

"Ohhhhh," the kwami whined. "I'd forgotten what sunshine felt like on these poor, aching bones."  


Adrien smirked at him, bending over to scoop him up, but his face morphed into a wince as a sudden throbbing pain made itself known on his side. He rolled up his shirt to find a round, red mark, about the size of an apple.

"Yep," Plagg said, "that's gonna bruise. What were you thinking, kid?"

Before he could respond, the photographer rushed towards him, and Adrien had to hurry to conceal Plagg before he was noticed. As he walked back towards the fountain, trying to act normal despite his aching ribs, Adrien thought, _yeah,_ _ what _ was  _ I thinking? _

Nothing. And that was the problem.


	2. Chapter 2

Everyone says summer vacation is supposed to be relaxing, but Marinette’s was anything but. Between her job of babysitting Manon, which was becoming a regular thing, and the million different projects she'd started all at once, it’s a wonder how she managed to squeeze in time to actually be Ladybug.

She was far from isolated, though. She and Alya chatted regularly, of course, and Adrien's photoshoots seemed to keep drawing him to the park. Some days, she would go out with Manon and conveniently run into him; others, she would go alone, in hopes that his photographer needed someone else to shoot in order to keep the model's mood light. Secretly, she also went to get a peek at the upcoming fashion in Gabriel Agreste's line. Adrien never seemed to question her presence, and even enjoyed the company. They barely had time to talk, and even if they had, there wouldn't have been much conversation, anyway.

There were some days when she would bring her sketchbook to the park with her, but she could never explain why; it's not like Mr. Agreste himself ever came to the photoshoots. The park was far from her favorite spot to think, but the sunshine and ambiance provided its own form of inspiration.

Really, though, the highlight of Marinette's summer came early. She was lurking in the park, as usual (although she had an excuse this time--Manon had wanted to ride the carousel), when Adrien came over during one of his breaks. She was leaning against the fence, watching her charge ride around and around, when he walked up and gave her a friendly wave.

"Marinette! Do you have a minute?"

Her eyes widened as he leaned on the fence next to her and tilted his head down. "Uh, s-sure...?" she said uncertainly. Her palms were almost certainly drenched by now, and she tried to casually smooth them against her pants.

"So, um," Adrien began, nervous for some reason that Marinette couldn't fathom. He scratched the back of his neck. "I know you're really into fashion, obviously. And, um, your designs are really good--well, the ones that I've seen, but I'm sure they're all great!--so I was talking to my father the other day and I mentioned that I had a friend whose work is just amazing but they don't really have any exposure, and I was wondering if he might consider looking at some of your stuff... anyway, he actually remembered you! From that hat contest a few months ago? And he said that if you gave a few designs to him by the end of the week, he might consider putting one of them in his next shoot--only if you're okay with that, of course! Sorry, I probably should have asked you first, but I wanted it to be a surprise... You definitely don't have to do anything, if you don't want to!"

Marinette's mind, meanwhile, had stalled somewhere after Adrien had complimented her. Well, her designs, but she'd take it.

"What?" she asked. The rest of his words came crashing into her skull like a floodgate had opened, and she gaped. "What?!"

"Um, so I was talking to my father--" Adrien began again.

"No, I got it, I just-- Wow! Thank you so much, Adrien! I don't even-- this is one of the nicest things anyone's done for me!" she gushed. "I, u-um." It suddenly registered just _who_  she was talking to, and her stutter returned in full force. "Y-you're amazing! I mean, that's amazing! I mean, you're amazing, too--f-for doing that. Oh gosh. I mean, it's amazing that you--"

Manon, thankfully, chose that moment to butt in. "Marinette, can we get ice cream?"

"In a minute," Marinette said.

"You'll forget in a minute," Manon whined.

Marinette smiled sheepishly at Adrien and crouched down to meet Manon's eyes. "I promise I will take you to get ice cream in a minute. Okay?"

Manon pouted. "You just want to keep talking to your boyfriend."

Marinette's face flushed. "H-he's not my boyfriend!" she choked. Her eyes darted up to glance at Adrien. "He's my friend! I mean, he's nice and he's a boy and he's my friend, b-but he's not my _boyfriend_. Like, he's my _boy friend_. My friend. Who is a boy. But we-we're not dating!"

Adrien chuckled. "Can't a boy and a girl just be friends?" he asked in a silly voice, leaning down to tweak Manon's nose. She scowled at him. "Come on, don't you remember me? Your pal, your buddy? Adrien? We took pictures together last week!" Manon continued to shake her head, and he sniffled theatrically. "You kissed my cheek! I thought we had something..."

Manon, however, was still having none of it. "Ice cream," she said firmly, crossing her arms.

Marinette scooped her up onto her back and turned back to Adrien. "Sorry. Um, th-thanks for the offer, but I guess I don't really want to put that on your dad. I'm sure he's busy enough."

Adrien shrugged. "Are you sure? It wouldn't be a bother, I promise. Like I said, he remembers you, and I'm sure he liked you. I think you're great, for what it's worth. It's up to you, though. Just, think about it, okay? Let me know." He patted her shoulder and walked off, back towards his photographer, who was gesticulating angrily at him.

* * *

_I think you're great._ That phrase kept echoing through Marinette's mind. The logical part of her brain told her that, _of course_ , he obviously meant "I think you're great...at designing"; "I think you're great...with fashion"; "I think you[r ideas] are great."

But Adrien Agreste had called _her_  great. And he'd talked to his father about her.

Oh god, his father. Marinette had the chance to show her work to her idol. And she'd said no.  _What was wrong with her?_

That night, she called Alya in a panic and told her what had transpired at the park.

"Why are you like this?" Alya asked, the smirk evident in her voice.

"I don't know!" Marinette wailed. "I guess I didn't really believe that it was actually happening? I mean, I'm fine with just...looking at magazines and fashion shows and doing my own thing, but to get the chance to maybe be noticed? By a big-name designer like Gabriel Agreste?"

"And it doesn't help that Adonis was asking you."

"Shut up," Marinette squeaked, burying her face in her arms. "And I said no! Why did I say no?"

"I mean, Adrien did tell you to think about it, right?" Alya asked. "Call him tomorrow. Tell him you changed your mind."

Marinette mumbled something into her arms.

"Girl, you know your microphone is shit," Alya said. "What was that?"

"I don't have his number. And I know he doesn't have mine."

"Didn't you save it that one time you called?" Alya asked. "You know, that time you literally stole his phone?"

"I'm trying to block out that whole experience," Marinette said. "Can you just--come over tomorrow, when I call? To make sure I don't shove my foot down my esophagus?"

Alya gave a long-suffering sigh. "Fine."

"You're the best!" Marinette said. "I love you. I will have cookies."

"And I want the good kind," Alya retorted. "None of those day-old ones like I normally get."

"Deal."

* * *

 

Adrien's first day off in two weeks started with an abrupt wake-up call. Literally. Plagg shrieked when the phone he had been sleeping on suddenly started moving.

Adrien brushed the kwami off and peered at the screen. Unknown number. He sighed and threw it on the blanket next to him, waiting for it to stop ringing.

The voicemail notification pinged a minute later, just at the moment that his eyes had drifted shut again, and he grunted, cracking an eyelid and unlocking his phone to listen.

"Um, hi, Adrien. I was just calling you to--well, not calling you because you're not here, but calling your phone, I guess? Sorry. I mean, I just wanted to ask about your dad and whether or not he's still interested at looking at some of my stuff? I totally get it if he can't anymore or doesn't want to because I said no and it's probably really unprofessional to change my mind like that, and it's my fault for saying no in the first place, even though I'm not really sure why I did, b-but it was really nice of you to ask about it in the first place so, um, yeah! Call me back if you want? My number is--well, it's probably on the screen, isn't it. So... Oh! This is Marinette! Did I say that already? Anyway, thankstalktoyoulaterbye!"

"Well, she's perky," Plagg grumbled.

"I mean, it is... noon?" Adrien said, checking the clock on his phone. He groaned, letting his head fall back onto his pillow. "I should've been up by now. Nathalie's going to kill me for sleeping in so late."

"Relax, kid," Plagg responded, yawning. "You need to sleep. I need to sleep. I'm going back to sleep now. Don't talk to me."

Adrien rolled his eyes as he got up and stretched. His back cracked like bubble wrap. "Right. First, I gotta.... Where'd my phone go?" he muttered.

"I said don't talk to me," Plagg complained, eyes firmly shut.

"I'm talking to myself," Adrien retorted. His phone began to buzz again, somewhere from the depths of his pile of blankets. "Oh, there it is."

He rifled through until he found it and, seeing it was the same number as before, answered. "'Lo?" There was a rustling noise on the other side of the line, then a clatter, then silence. He cleared his throat. "Hello?"

"Adrien! Hi!" Unexpectedly, it was Alya's voice that answered him. 

“Hey, Alya, uh…” he began uncertainly, still not entirely awake and definitely not conscious or cognizant enough to track what was going on. “I was calling for Marinette. Or, she called me. Did you get a new phone? Or is this her number?”

More rustling, then Alya said, “Oh, yeah, Marinette wanted to talk to you, too! This is her phone. Just, uh, give me a minute.”

“You’re being loud. What happened to letting me sleep?” Plagg moaned. Adrien shushed him. Plagg stuck his tongue out, and Adrien returned the favor.

“Hello?” Marinette’s voice came from the other line. “Is everything…?”

“Hey. Hey! Marinette!” Adrien said, rubbing his eyes and running a hand through his hair. Right. That’s what he was doing. “Was there something you wanted to talk about?”

“Oh, I can call back later if you’re busy now, or, um, I mean, you sound like you just woke up so maybe now isn’t the best time but I was just--I mean, yes. Or, um, yeah, if you haven’t told your dad what I told you yesterday; that is to say, I still--”

“Marinette’s an idiot and you’re way too nice, and she wanted to know if she could still show your dad her designs,” Alya interrupted.

“Mmph. Uh, yeah, no problem,” Adrien said. “I mean, I haven’t talked to my father in, like, a week, so it’s not like he had already written you off--not that he would have! I wouldn’t have let him, honestly; you’re really good and, I dunno, I probably wouldn’t have let you say no, to be honest.”

There was a pause from the other end; then, Marinette giggled shrilly. “Okay. Well, good. Th-thanks! I mean, for…just, everything, I guess? I mean, for letting me change my mind or whatever or--”

“Yes. Thanks. She’ll talk to you later, Adrien,” Alya said. “Go back to sleep, or whatever you were doing. Bye.”

“Uh. Bye?” he said. He continued to hold the phone dumbly to his ear until he realized that the screen had gone dark. 

Plagg rolled over. “Join me. Sleep is good."

* * *

In her own bedroom, Marinette lowered her hands from her mouth and looked sheepishly over at Alya, who was still holding her phone. “How bad was that?” she stage-whispered.

“That was--I mean, it wasn’t--Okay it was kind of bad,” Alya admitted.

Marinette threw herself onto her chaise. “Kill me,” she pleaded. “I’ve had a good run, but it’s all over now.”

“Uh-uh,” Alya said. “No way. Not after you just put all that effort in to make sure that you could introduce yourself and your work to your  _ role model _ . You have come too far and you’re going to see this to the end.”

Marinette covered her eyes and moaned. She groaned. She carried on as she pulled herself into a sitting position and up onto her feet in a slouch. Alya watched in stifled amusement as Marinette trudged gracelessly down the stairs.

“Where are you going?” Alya asked.

“To make tea,” Marinette replied. “And then to stab myself.”

“Bring me back some crackers.”

Marinette’s response came in the form of a loud banging, a long clattering, and then a profound, “Owww.”

“And maybe watch what you’re doing,” Alya added.

While Marinette busied herself in the kitchen, Alya looked around her friend’s room to occupy herself. When Marinette came back up a few minutes later, balancing two mugs of tea and a box of crackers, she saw Alya spread across her desk, flipping through her notebook of designs and marking spots with post-it flags.

“What are you doing?” Marinette asked.

“Helping,” Alya replied, without looking up. She extended one hand to accept a mug from Marinette and flipped another page. “Cute pincushion, by the way. Is it new?”

Marinette frowned, creeping forward. Her box of sewing supplies was open on the desk and she peered in. Tikki stared back up at her, a frozen smile on her face and blank expression brightening for a moment to flash up in terror.

“Uhh, yeah, sh--it’s new. Ish. Wha-what are you doing in my stuff?”

Alya stuck a flag on another page. “Helping you pick out your designs.”

“Oh.” Marinette leaned over to look over her friend’s shoulder. “Ew, not that one. It’s not good.”

“It is,” Alya insisted. “Just because you don’t look good in yellow doesn’t mean no one does.”

* * *

A few hours later, Marinette called again. She seemed to have the phone on speaker, or else was holding something directly up to the microphone, because her first few words were garbled by the sound of crinkling paper.

“--details because I didn’t even think to ask earlier, but I should probably know, well, everything, I guess. Like, how many designs should I give you? And I know this is assuming that your dad likes them and all, but who would be modelling them? I need to know what kinds of designs to pick, really. Like, would it be you? Or a female model? Does it depend on which designs your father likes? I do have a lot of designs that are specifically for me so should I leave them out or--”

“Marinette,” Adrien interrupted. “I’m sorry. I really don’t have a clue. I mentioned it to him offhand. I don’t have any specifics.”

“Yeah, no, of course,” she replied. “Sorry. I don’t mean to keep bothering you. Alya was over earlier trying to help me pick something out but I still have to narrow it down, like, a lot.”

“I’d love to help,” Adrien said. He set his video game controller down and reclined against the couch cushions.

“Oh, um,” Marinette said. “Well, it’s just that I was thinking if I knew what kind of stuff your dad was looking for, or liked, that might rule some things out.”

“How many do you have?” Adrien asked.

“Twel-thirteen?” she guessed. More rustling. Then, “No, wait. Fifteen. Outfits, that is. Or, I guess, twelve outfits and three shirts?”

“Wow.”

“Sorry, I know it’s a lot, but Alya and I just couldn’t decide…”

“Maybe I could give you a second opinion?” he asked. "Or, third, I guess, after Alya."

“Yeah!” she said breathlessly. “I could, um, bring them over the next time you’re across the street, maybe?”

“Oh. Sure.”

“I-is that okay?” she asked.

“Yeah. I mean, I was thinking maybe I could come over,” he said after a moment. “I know it’s something you don’t normally hear, but I’m kind of tired of sitting outside all day. And I’d have more time than if I was just on a break or something.” Silence. “Sorry, I know I shouldn’t just invite myself over--”

“Yes.”

“That’s, uh--?”

“I mean,” she stammered, “I’d--you should come over.”

“Cool,” he said. “Tomorrow, then?”

“Mm-hmm,” she squeaked. “Cool.”

“Uh, what time?” he asked.

“Just... whenever’s good for you!” she said too quickly. “You can just text me when you’re on your way. My number’s--”

“Marinette,” he interjected gently. “We’re on the phone right now.”

“Right. Sorry.”

“And I saved it when you called earlier.”

“Oh. Okay.”

“So…” he said.

“So…” she replied. “I should, um, I should go! But I’ll see you tomorrow?”

“Tomorrow,” he agreed. “See you.”

“Bye!” A clatter, then, “Oh my god--”

She hadn’t hung up. Adrien ended the call before he heard any more.

“Got a date?” Plagg teased from his trash can.

“Well, it’s a friend thing, but--yeah!” Adrien said, picking his controller back up and unpausing his game. “I’m going over to Marinette’s tomorrow!”

Plagg’s snickers echoed around the bin and needled at Adrien. “What?” he asked.

“Nothing,” Plagg replied. “Just bring me along. I want to see the show.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I legitimately forgot that I had started to publish this.... hah a whoops........ 
> 
> Chapter 2 and the quality is already declining. Probably because I wrote the first half like three months ago and the second half last night. Now that I actually remember this though I hope it'll start being what I want it to be?? If that makes sense??

**Author's Note:**

> I've been staring at this chapter for too long. I just need to let it Go™
> 
> come bother me at chatchevalier.tumblr.com!


End file.
